


Counting by Threes

by DisasterSoundtrack



Series: Season 8 ficlets [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterSoundtrack/pseuds/DisasterSoundtrack
Summary: Sometimes, love isn’t about doing what seems easy. Most of the time, love is about doing what is right.(Keyword: hope)





	Counting by Threes

It feels as if Thorgy went to sleep still in a fairytale, and woke up in a nightmare.

Betty is sitting by the table in their messy kitchen, her body facing Thorgy and her face as beautiful as ever, but closed off, eyelashes nearly sweeping her eyebrow arches, and Thorgy thinks, awful clarity overtaking last night’s hangover,  _how the fuck is she not mine anymore?_

“It’s actually only three pages and three places where you have to sign. Should I, I don’t know, leave you alone with these?”

Three pages. No children to share custody of, no common possessions that they haven’t already dealt with, not even a pet to fight about, just three signatures to invalidate the seven years they’ve spent together, five of them as a married couple. The thought alone makes Thorgy’s head spin and her hands shake, but Betty would probably say it’s just withdrawal.

She’s too scared to check if Betty signed the papers already.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Betty raises her perfectly painted eyebrows like Thorgy is being stupid again. “Baby. You knew this was going to happen, right? We’ve talked. We’ve talked about this a lot. If you’ve been drunk or high most of these times, well, this is not my problem, is it?”

“But… I thought, that night last week? Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

“ _That_  night? Thorgy, you got me drunk and practically dragged me into bed. What did you expect?”

That wasn’t really how Thorgy remembers  _that_  night. She certainly doesn’t recall any dragging, mostly just the two of them falling back into old habits, Betty being a little overly enthusiastic with the amount of booze in their margaritas, her touches lingering a little too long and then there was nothing but a blur of picking out the tones of minty toothpaste in Betty’s breath and the ever-fading tones of pink in her hair.

“Glad to know it’s all that perfectly simple for you.” Thorgy can feel tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill right out and embarrass her in front of her wife.

“Nothing about you was ever simple.” Betty’s expensive watch knocks against the slightly sticky kitchen table as the woman opens her arms invitingly. “C’mere, babe.”

Thorgy lunges forward as if she’s been underwater for too long and struggling to breathe. She clings to Betty, losing herself in the only place she belongs, the only home she’ll ever have and the first she ever had, and if she had any before, she had chosen to forget all about them. The crazy love affair with Betty might as well be Thorgy’s first memory, the one that shines in all the bright colors of the world. The magnetic force that brought them together, disappointment in Laila’s eyes when Thorgy fed her lie after lie, breathless nights and days on pins and needles, disregarding everyone and everything just to be with Betty, the two of them wrapped in each other, naked on top of a blanket on the rooftop of Thorgy’s apartment building, getting high. The endless conversations about how they only deserve each other, too tainted for the world and only good enough for this thing they had, the thing that burned like flying too close to the sun and never really stopped.

“But… but, Betty. I love you.” Thorgy hates the pathetic way her voice sounds when she speaks into the fabric of Betty’s clean-cut suit jacket in electric blue.

Betty pulls away from the hug, running the back of her hand slowly down the side of Thorgy’s face. “I love you too, cuckoo bird. How could I ever stop?”

Why is she doing that then?

Letting go, Betty gets up, wrapping a fuchsia scarf tighter around her arms and tapping her long nails on the divorce papers. “I’ll come back for these the day after tomorrow, alright? But please don’t think about this for too long. Beating yourself up is overrated.”

She laughs, dryly, and Thorgy doesn’t understand a single world leaving her mouth. Betty’s heels click rhythmically when she walks to the door and then turns to look at Thorgy one last time, a lightning-fast assessment of her dirty leggings and a t-shirt from last week. Betty pushes her hair behind her ear on the left side and a small, somber smile grows on her lips. “See you, Thorgles.”

The door is closed swiftly and quietly and Thorgy can only think about how Betty’s hair smelled, not really registering her own movements that lead her to the fridge from which she pulls out a carton of orange juice.

Sitting down by the table again, not too happy about not wearing her glasses but lightheaded enough to decide against retrieving them from the bedroom, Thorgy holds the juice carton close to her chest as she finally looks at the divorce papers and leafs through the sad three pages.

Betty’s signatures are nowhere to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me at samrull.tumblr.com


End file.
